the flight attendant,
liked to borrow things.
the door
bell would ring
and she'd be standing there
in her nightgown,
with an empty
cup.
sometimes it was olive
oil
that she needed,
or sugar,
or salt,
or a dry pork rub.
i think she was flirting
with me.
but the light never went
on in my head.
she was giving me
the green light,
and i was giving her
condiments,
hoping that it was enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment